The Nitty…

I’ve been watching YouTube videos on grief and loss. A recent one pointed something out that I wasn’t really prepared to hear…but needed to hear nonetheless. “You dont move on from grief…you take it with you” (Nora McInery…check her out)

It got me thinking about my mom. Now, as I write this I”m sitting in the Atlanta airport and fighting the urge to cry (suppress that shit, OWG!). Screw it, I have an hanky.

The thing I’m wondering is how she dealt with her grief. She lost both of her parents at a very young age, lived with her grandfather until he passed, then was in a catholic orphanage until she turned 16. She was the youngest of 9 kids…all but one brother and she were old enough to live independently bot not mature enough to raise 2 younger siblings. I remember that even late in her life she would talk about her mother and still get tears in her eyes.

This always struck me as odd. Out of character for the TOWER of strength she was for her kids an family. She instilled early on in me that “a little pain never hurt anybody”. I recall seeing her cry at funerals of her siblings but it was always restrained. It never really occurred to me that she was still carrying the grief of her life but never really facing it…or facing it like an OWG. The nuns probably had something to do with it…Catholic stoicism and all.

I wish she was around so we could talk about it. That’s “The Nitty”. Mom passed two years ago this July.

It still feels so raw. Doing my best imitation of her with a napkin folded in my hand to dab at quiet tears. She always had quiet tears.

I’m not ready to describe our relationship…not enough bourbon in my system…but I’ll tackle that in time. For now, I’m just gonna sit and know that she and I shared this particular pain and feel a little closer to her for it.